A Sick Company
by Enide Dear
Summary: Exploding rodents, cherubs from Hell, high security chicken soup, and cooling ginger drinks – it’s all a working day at ShinRa


Title: A sick company

Author: Enide Dear

Rating: cute

Pairing: Tseng, most of ShinRa

Summary: Exploding rodents, cherubs from Hell, high security chicken soup, and cooling ginger drinks – it's all a working day at ShinRa

A geostigma-spotted hand grabbed the report Tseng was trying to read and tugged it down, gently but firmly. Rufus Shinra's bandaged no-nonsense face glared over the papers.

"Tseng, what are you doing here? You are sick. Go home." The one visible blue eye flashed with irritation.

Bleary eyed, Tseng looked back.

"I don't… do sick, sir," he said with a voice so thick and hoarse it was hard to make out the individual words.

"Huh." Rufus crossed his arms. "Then what do you call this?"

"A temporary dip in my health, sir. Nothing to worry about…" Tseng didn't get further before a sneeze interrupted him.

"Even your spot is looking down…" Rufus reached out a hand to touch his forehead, but immediately withdrew it. "Damn, you are burning up! You're a walking health hazard. I will not tell you again – go home and get some rest. Don't come back until you can have a normal conversation without coughing up your lungs up all over your desk."

"But sir!" Tseng made a helpless gesture at the pile of paperwork on his desk, that pile that never seemed to lessen no matter how much overtime he put in.

Rufus sighed.

"I hate to break it to you, Tseng, but I'm quite confident ShinRa can survive a couple of days without you. We can manage. Now, go before you infect me with something. This damn geostigma makes me more vulnerable to disease."

"I…but…yes, sir." Morosely, Tseng hung his head, rubbing his aching temples. There were no possible argument against that; Rufus' health was his top priority after all.

Picking up his coat, Tseng walked towards the exit, trying not to draw too much attention to himself.

"Hey, boss man! Going on a mission?" Reno's red head popped out of an office – Elena's office, Tseng noted. The wild Turk was chewing on something ferociously, his cheeks bulging obscenely. With his impish grin, wide eyes and violent hair, he looked, Tseng noted, like a cherub from Hell.

"No, Reno, I'm going home. I'm sick. Rufus' orders."

"Really?!" Reno's eyes lit with unholy mischief.

Stopping, Tseng turned slowly towards Reno, fixing him with the full force of red-shot, tired, intelligent eyes.

"Yes. And as a matter of fact, I'm appointing *you* my stand-in, for the duration of my absence."

"What? Cool!"

"…that means, that whatever happens, *whatever* happens, whiles I'm gone, is your responsibility. Toilet bombs, puke liquid instead of milk in the coffee machine, unexpected infestations of cat – nip in Reeve's office…Anything. Everything. Do you understand?"

Reno's face fell as he realized the implications. Even his cheeks started to sag.

"That's not fair! I was gonna…I mean, every Turk here will take the opportunity to pull pranks! It's not just me!"

"Have fun, Reno…or not, as it may be." Tseng turned to leave. "And by the way, that includes any missing chocolate from Elena's office."

"Not fair!"

Tseng didn't believe in medicine, but he picked up some ginger and honey on his way home and once he gotten back to his small but neat apartment he boiled up some water, chopped the ginger up into a teacup and added a good dollop of honey. Taking the strong tea with him, he sank in to an armchair, taking a couple of the reports he'd smuggled out of ShinRa with him. What was the point of being Head of Intelligence Gathering if you couldn't even fool your own boss?

He barely had time to sip the tea when the doorbell rang. Grumbling – his muscles ached, even though he tried to ignore them – he went over to open the door.

"Tseng! Oh, you poor thing!" Tseng was almost tackled to the ground when Elena threw herself around his neck. "I heard you were sick! Look, I brought you something!"

Tseng's relief that she'd stopped trying to strangle him died very quickly as he saw her pull out a truly hideous knitted orange sweater. It had a pattern of little mogs around the neck.

"Here!" She tried to forcibly pull it over his head and to his horror Tseng realized he was too weak to stop her. "It's important to keep warm when you have a cold."

"…Elena, what are you doing here? Don't you have work to do?" Tseng caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall and shuddered; it was impossible for Elena to have managed through Turk training if she was colour blind, but apparently the testing needed to be refined.

And anyway, he was very much a 'winter'.

"Reno owes me. He ate all my chocolate," the blond woman sulked. She shone up as she peered behind him. "Oh, look, you have a bathtub, that's excellent! You should take a nice, long, hot bath. That will make you feel better."

Maybe if he just agreed with her, she'd finally go away? He didn't have the strength to argue anyway.

"Yes, maybe I should."

"And add some lavender to the water, that helps."

"Yes."

"And perhaps light some candles instead of that sharp, electric light?"

"Yes."

"And I shall rub your back for you!"

"Yes…what? No!" Pure dread made him scrape together his last resources of strength and push the protesting blonde out the door. He locked it, and put on the safety chain.

Tseng managed to shuffle back to the armchair and sank back with a sigh. His tea was still hot, thank Gaia, hot and strong and sweet. He just needed a little break now before he continued with the report on the advantages of flame-proof underwear for the Turks. Or was that under – proved fire wear? It all seemed a bit hazy. Maybe he should just close his eyes for a few seconds. No more than a minute or two. A powernap, and then he'd continue….

When Tseng opened his eyes again, it was because of the sticky, cloying smell of chocolate that assailed even his clogged sinuses. He opened a bleary eye.

"What the Hell happened to you, boss?" Reno was sitting on the arm of the chair with his legs disrespectfully draped over Tseng's, balancing precariously, and staring at the orange sweater. "Hasn't anyone ever told you you're a 'winter'?"

"Get off me!" Reno squeaked as Tseng gave him a hard shove that made him fall into an untidy pile on the floor.

"Hey, what the Hell?!" Reno looked hurt as Rude, appearing out of nowhere, grabbed him by the elbow and helped him up. "And we brought you soup and everything!" He gestured at a messy take-out bowl with sickly yellow content that had spilled out all over the edge and onto…

"My reports!" Frantically Tseng tried to wipe the papers clean, but the sticky chicken soup had already turned most of it unreadable. Furious, Tseng spun around. Reno and Rude started to shuffle nervously towards the door. "Rufus put you up to this, didn't he?!"

"Um…." Reno tried, walking backwards with his hands up.

"He didn't become the world's most powerful man by not knowing the people who work for him, sir." Rude mumbled, fumbling behind him for the door.

"You can tell him – why is that door open? I locked it! And put the safety-chain on it!" Tseng stared at the open front door. The chain wasn't even cut, but still intact.

"Now you've seen our handiwork, maybe you should give us a raise, sir?" Reno tried with a small grin, but yelped and ducked as Tseng threw the still hot soup at him. Both Turks scrambled out the door and quickly shut it behind them.

His tea had gone cold, damn it. Tseng dragged himself to the kitchen, but he was all out of ginger, and the water had gone cold. He cursed under his breath as the doorbell rang once more.

Being a Turk, Tseng had seen some strange things in life, but few had made him recoil as much as the sight of the sallow, unhealthy face of professor Hojo lurking outside his door and smiling with twisted insanity.

"Ah, Tseng. The pillar of the Turks. The fundament of ShinRa. The one solid anchor in a working day of mayhem...I heard you were sick."

"Point, please, professor Hojo." Tseng leaned against the door. "I suddenly got a splitting headache." Mostly due to the stink of chemicals surrounding the lanky man, but Tseng wasn't about to say that.

"Oh, good!" Hojo lit up.

"I beg your pardon?" It wasn't a secret that Hojo was a sadist, but if he was trying to get some twisted sense of satisfaction from Tseng's cold, then the head of Turks was going to kick him where no amount of mako radiation would bring it back.

"I've developed a new treatment for colds!" He pressed a bottle on Tseng, who took it gingerly. "You can be the lucky first person to try it out!"

"Wait…" Tseng studied the small, innocent looking bottle suspiciously. "Are you telling me this hasn't been tried?"

"On rats, on rats. Yes. Tried on rats."

"And they got well?"

"Oh, yes! All signs of the cold disappeared within minutes. I don't know how long the remedy works, though."

"Why not?"

"Well, the symptoms disappeared after an average of 3.2 minutes, but the rats themselves disappeared after half an hour. Bloody strange. Cages where all empty. Just a few pieces of scorched fur and some teeth left."

"…"

That was *it*, Tseng thought as he slammed the door shut in Hojo's face. He was tired. He was, he had to admit, sick, and he was harassed. No more!

The doorbell rang.

Snarling, Tseng grabbed his gun and kicked the door open, aiming straight between the eyes of his next assailant.

"No! Don't shoot!" Throwing his arms over his head and crouching down, Reeve squeaked with fear.

"Reeve?! I'm so sorry, I thought you were…well, anyone else, really." Shouldering the gun, Tseng tried to help the dark- haired man up, but his own shaking legs buckled.

"Tseng? Tseng, you are burning up!" Reeve caught him and a cool hand caressed Tseng's forehead. "You really are sick. Come, I'll help you."

Supported by Reeve, Tseng managed to shuffle back inside. The couch was surprisingly soft and comfortable as he lay down on it – he didn't have the habit of slouching on couches, ordinarily. Clucking with worry, Reeve helped him off with his shoes and then found a thick blanket which he pulled up to Tseng's chin. Again, the cool hand on his forehead. It was very comfortable.

"I brought you some honey and ginger. I'll make you some tea. You just lie here and try to relax. Cait will keep you warm." The magic cat purred as it jumped up on the couch and curled up around Tseng's feet, keeping them nice and warm. "You really should take better care of yourself."

"I've tried," Tseng mumbled a bit more defensively than he'd meant to. He closed his eyes in exasperation. "Invasive Turks. Offensive sweaters. Destructive soup. Exploding rodents. Not a moment's peace."

"You are delirious." Reeve helped him get a pillow under his head and put a cool, wet cloth on his forehead. "There. I'll take care of you."

For half a second, Tseng thought he felt dry, warm lips brush his cheek. He smiled as he finally let go of all worries and sank deeper into the warm embrace of pillows, couch and blankets. Maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
